Page 3 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

Theo met his hazel gaze head on and felt a jolt of annoyance down her spine. The man was insufferably rude. “Really?” she heard herself ask and she was pleased to hear her voice sounded calm and collected instead of mortally offended.

“Lily Longdon’s voice is very fine indeed,” she pointed out with perfect truth. “She is quite the finest soprano in London. If you did not recognize that then I am afraid that I cannot think very highly of your discernment or judgement in this business, Mr. Dabney.”

That did earn his full attention, though he looked dubious. “I have heard several claimants to that particular title, present company included,” he said, his eyes flickering briefly for a moment to Henrietta.

“My sister has a pretty voice,” Theo acknowledged coolly. “But it has neither the purity nor the training of Mrs. Longdon’s.”

Henrietta smiled graciously. “I have never claimed it did. I am a conventional creature and will retire from the boards as soon as I am married.”

Dabney acknowledged this with a shrug. “A shame,” he said. “As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s not always the greatest singer that draws the biggest crowd.”

He was talking about looks, of course. At fifty-three, no amount of powder and paint could disguise the fact Lil was long past the first flush of youth. Always, Theo thought with faint bitterness, it came down to attractiveness with women.

Her gaze travelled over Mr. Dabney’s shoulder to look at his motley company of players. A rotund gentleman in a straining waistcoat was laughing uproariously at something a thin, bewildered-looking man was whispering in his ear. A comedic double act, she deduced.

Next to them a wizened little man was fanning a deck of cards and muttering under his breath; a magician if Theo was not mistaken. They would all continue to command a high fee so long as their talent remained, but the same was not true with female performers.

“I was never the greatest boxer,” Clem Dabney continued in his mellow, pleasant voice. “But I could always draw a crowd.”

“I expect they all wanted to see you punched in the face,” Theo answered thoughtfully. “I know I would.”

“Theo!” Her sister was horrified.

“Oh dear, did I say that out loud?” Theo asked pulling a face. “Do forgive me, Mr. Dabney. And after you have been so excessively polite too.” Her tone was wry, and she saw his eyes narrow, though he laughed after a moment, showing strong white teeth.

“Are you really addressed by a boy’s name generally, or only when you are in costume?” he asked, turning fully toward her for the first time. His light eyes raked over her appraisingly once more, as though only just deciding she deserved a second look.

To her surprise, his eyes lingered on her legs longer than was entirely seemly and, for a moment, Theo felt self-conscious about the fact she was still dressed in knee breeches. Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound. At least she wasn’t knock-kneed. “My name is Theodora,” she answered shortly. “Only my family and intimates call me Theo.”

“Really?” His light eyes held her own, a faint smile on his lips. “I believe I shall call you Dora.”

It was such a gross impertinence that, in the moment, she could think of no reply. Later, of course, she could think of a dozen. It was always the way. As you shall have no occasion to address me with such informality, I imagine the point to be a moot one, Mr. Dabney. That would have been perfect. Uttered in a dry tone, of course, or perhaps with the utmost indifference. She kicked herself afterwards whenever she thought of it. At the time though, she just turned rather pink and inclined her head.

Mercifully, they were interrupted by the pouting blonde actress who had clearly made no headway with Felix. Hetty slipped her hand through Theo’s arm, and they beat a hasty retreat.

“You need to have a care around that one, Theo,” her sister had remarked disapprovingly as they made their way back to their dressing room. “I’ve never seen you like that before, vying for a man’s attention.”

“What do you mean? Vying?” Theo felt stung. “He annoyed me that’s all!” But she had a horrible feeling that Hetty was right. People overlooked her all the time, but for some reason, Dabney’s doing so had been insupportable.

She followed Hetty inside their dressing room and shut the door behind them. “Let me tell you,” she rallied, “if you found my behavior wanting, then the feeling was mutual! When were you planning on telling me of your plans to quit the stage? Fancy telling a stranger like Dabney, before your own sister!”

Henrietta turned toward her, pulling on her gloves. “I have not had the opportunity of late to confide in you, Theo. Every time I turn around you are whispering in corners with the likes of Lillian Longdon.” She pronounced the words with distaste.

“What have you got against Lil?” Theo demanded. “She has always been very kind to us. When we started out in the business, she kept a careful eye out for us, and if memory serves, we were very grateful for the fact.”

“I have nothing against her,” Henrietta interrupted crisply, “but even you will admit, Theo, that she is—” Her lips formed a moue of distaste.

“What?” asked Theo, plunking her hands on her hips. “She is what, Hetty?”

Hetty lifted her chin. “That she is vulgar and not desirable company for a respectable woman.”

Theo almost reeled. “Oh, is that what you are now?” she asked when she could once more catch her breath. “A respectable woman? Simply by associating with the likes of Sir Matthew Hillingdon?”

Hetty turned red. “I have always been respectable!” she snapped. “Our parents were musicians, and if they had not died, we would never have been put on the stage to earn a living!”

Theo nodded slowly. “I see. So now you’re ashamed of the life Uncle provided for us instead of slinging us into the nearest orphanage.”

“Of course not!” Hetty spluttered. “Uncle Barnabus did the best he could, but there is no denying that our lives would have been very different if not for that carriage accident. Uncle was Mama’s younger brother and the black sheep of the family. They could never have imagined that he would be the one that raised the three of us.”